I am having some kind of keep-me-up-awake-at-night existential crisis/drama, and I’m having a difficult time coming to terms with the fact that I am exactly where I was 12 months ago. See, 12 months ago, I left my job as a shoe repairer/watch repairer/engraver in the city, to work in a call centre back home. About four months ago, I got out of that call centre and found work in another one, working as an Ambulance call taker in a different town. It was a great job; it was fascinating, and challenging, and incredible. The six people I trained with are amongst the most amazing people I have ever met. And then I failed my assessment. And I failed it again. And I tried really hard. And then I didn’t have a job anymore, and so my buddy and former employer hired me back two days a week to get me by until I find another full time job in the town I now call home. So, when I say I am back where I was 12 months ago, I mean I am literally where I was 12 months ago.
The sounds of screaming children in the playground beside my work kiosk are slowly edging me towards a homicidal massacre. The same calibre of customers I thought I was rid of are slowly draining my will to live, and to hold back the seething anger I feel every time a late middle aged man makes a joke about how I need a man to supervise me. Because I’m a woman, and very clearly we are incapable of doing anything without male supervision. (insert withering sarcasm here) And I have spent the last few weeks applying for mediocre jobs, because that’s all someone without any official qualifications is eligible to apply for. I mean, honestly, some of the requirements for job applications these days are bordering on unattainable. “To be eligible for this position, you must have several university degrees, nineteen thousand years experience in a similar role, the ability to fly a dragon single handed, and no problem doing the work of three people for $12 per hour.” Ok, so that might be a little dramatic, but the job market is disheartening, to say the least.
I think about the future, and what I think I might like to do, and come up with nothing. I am miserable in the present, and the notion of the future makes me even more so. I envy those people who have their lives all sorted out, because I am floundering in mediocrity here, and I’m not sure how much longer I can stand it. After a long string of failures and disappointments, I’m trying to think of things worth sticking around for, and coming up short.
Someone bring me some chocolate and a puppy, please?